


Solartide

by odoridango



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Agender Jean, Established Relationship, Genderfluid Eren, M/M, Slight Body Dysphoria, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odoridango/pseuds/odoridango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer heat by the lake house as Jean and Eren wait for the rest of their friends to arrive at the cabin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solartide

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [tsukibitch](http://tsukibitch.tumblr.com) for the readover and critique! Written for erejean week day 4: gender.
> 
> Full disclosure, I am cis, and I did my best to not linger on dysphoria and make this a happy, natural piece, since I often hear, and agree, that there should be more positive and upbeat, everyday, slice-of-life portrayals of nonbinary folks. That said, please feel free to come forward if something strikes you as rude and insensitive.

Jean’s thankful ze favors such baggy clothes, because Eren looks like they’re dying over there.

“Jeaaaaaaan,” Eren whines, flopping back dramatically onto zir knees, “It’s too fucking hot.”

“You’re right,” ze says, pecking them on the forehead. “So get off of me.” Eren hits the wooden porch with a thunk.

“Augh, you’re the worst,” Eren grumbles, levers themself up to throw themself bodily into the chair beside Jean with an indignant fluff of skirts. The dress was one of their first creations and remains a favorite, a pretty royal blue number with a light petticoat underneath. Jean admires the dark curl of their lashes as they pout. Eren likes a little liner around the eyes no matter what kind of day they feel it is, but today they let Jean work on them for just a little bit. Go big or go home, as Jean likes to say, and ze really can’t deny that Eren looks fantastic with a smoky eye.

Jean’s wearing one of Eren’s creations too, a straight drop boxy shirt that drapes nicely without clinging. Ze hates clingy clothes, ze hates the skinny jean trend, hates the deep v-shirt trend, ze hates how seeing zirself in them makes zir feel. Ze’d rather wear what Eren made for zir all day long. Not like ze would ever tell them that, they’d probably just get full of themselves. What a jerk.

Eren looks out to the lake, rests a hand on zir knee like they knew what ze was thinking all along, and smiles the same way they did when Jean took them to a hilltop to watch stars for their birthday, or when the two of them took a trip to the soothing waters of the hot springs to the north and soaked in utter bliss, just the two of them, in their own private suite, without fear, with complete freedom. They’d had to save up several months’ worth of paychecks to do it, but neither of them could say that it was money wasted.

“We’ll go to the ocean one day,” Eren says without reservation. There’s no doubt in their voice. The two of them will go see the ocean one day. They’ll go see the bamboo forests one day, they’ll go hike the mountains together one day, they’ll visit old, crumbled buildings and tee-totaling skyscrapers one day. For someone like Jean, who’s been second guessing zirself for so long, the idea is almost incomprehensible. Eren is so strong. Eren challenges themselves to look in the mirror when they don’t want to, with gritted teeth, Eren makes their own clothes when they can’t find ones to suit them. When they first presented Jean with a handmade set of business wear, with careful, collared shirt and delicate ruffled edging, smooth dark coat would hang sleek and loose on zir lankier frame, wide leg trousers that zir could move in like a dream, ze had really thought that Eren was amazing. Ze had thought Eren could probably tackle anything in the world and end up on top.

“Jean,” Eren whispers, cups zir face gently and tilts zir face down for a chaste kiss, just a brush of lips. “Where do you want to go? We’ll go anywhere you like. Except maybe our old high school.”

And Jean snickers because nobody fucking likes high school and no one ever wants to go back there. “For now, this lake is good enough. Nobody’s even here yet, so we should get back at Connie and Sasha for last time.”

Eren grins, sharp and mischievous. “I’m eating all the Nutella,” they say, voice echoing off the walls of the cabin as they run into the kitchen, “And you can’t stop me!”

“No, leave some for me!” Jean veritably screeches, because, well, it’s fucking Nutella. Ze knew ze should have brought some of those to-go packs as emergency supplies. “If you do, I’ll make crepes!”

Eren pops their head around the corner. “You,” they say, sauntering over for a quick peck on the cheek, indulgently letting zir loop a hand around their waist, “drive a very hard bargain.”

“You just want me for the food,” Jean says dryly, and pushes Eren’s face away. It’s not so bad though, whisking together crepe batter while Eren peers up at zir, head resting on folded arms. They’re a careful watcher always, and Jean never minds those eyes on zir. Moments like that, eating Nutella out of the jar even though the crepes aren’t done, throwing handfuls of powdered sugar at each other, feeding each other so many plump strawberries that there’s almost none left to put on their plates, trying uselessly to kiss the berry stains off each other’s lips, moments like that, sitting at the table with knees knocking, Jean decides that ze can afford to think about little forevers, small ones, just to get the hang of it, because the scary part is to look at Eren and the way the petticoat swirls about their bruised knees, to look at Eren and remember how soft they look curled up on the sofa in a baggy sweater and old jeans, to look and look and look and find something new every time, to never get tired. It scares zir, because ze can imagine it. Ze can imagine Eren in a forever.

Eren looks over and steals a bite off zir fork, perfect timing like always, like they know what ze’s thinking. They close their eyes in bliss. “You’re amazing,” they whimper around a bite of crepe.

“I know,” ze says and it’s a triumph, a little one. Eren grins, bright and happy, but Jean can’t speak the words yet, can’t believe in the forever quite yet, so ze yields just a bit, presses a small, but heavy kiss to their brow, to anchor them here. To anchor them to zir.


End file.
